


Summer Solace

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-24
Updated: 2005-12-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: Unable to cope with life at Grimmauld Place, Harry spends the rest of the summer with Ron at The Burrow, where he learns to work through his grief.





	Summer Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written to cheer up [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=thetreacletart)[**thetreacletart**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/thetreacletart/) during her stressful career transition time. It started off as a drabble, but I got carried away, so you ended up with a full-blown fic. I hope you have a “Ron” to stand by you during your time of uncertainty too. As always, a fond thank you goes out to my favorite beta, Kate. This will be my last H/R story before NEW CANON!  


* * *

Ron woke to the slapping sound of bare feet across the hardwood floor. He opened his eyes just as the dim light from the hallway disappeared behind the closing door. A glance at Harry’s bed confirmed that he’d left the room.  
  
Under normal circumstances, Ron would have simply rolled over and gone back to sleep. But Harry wasn’t acting normally. It had only been a few days since he’d joined them at Grimmauld Place after leaving the Dursleys, but every night’s sleep had been punctuated with a nightmare. Harry was edgy and quiet, and Ron wasn’t an expert on these things, but he had the feeling there was more to his foul mood than just Sirius’s death. Only Harry didn’t talk to him about that. He didn’t talk to Ron about anything, really.  
  
When Harry still hadn’t returned after five minutes, Ron got out of bed. He thought he ought to check the loo – just to make sure Harry wasn’t sick or something. When he padded down the hallway, though, he saw that the bathroom was empty. Strangely enough, there was a light coming from under the door at the other end of the hallway – from the room that had been Sirius’s.  
  
Ron headed towards the light, not wanting Harry to think he was following him, but concerned just the same. When he heard the sound of shattering glass from inside the room, he took the last few steps at a run.  
  
Harry was sitting on the floor in front of Sirius’s dresser, surrounded by little pieces of broken glass. He was holding a small, framed mirror – obviously the source of the glass. His back was facing the doorway and he didn’t appear to have heard Ron open the door.  
  
Harry picked up a large piece of glass, from the floor and examined it. Ron heard him moan, “Why did you have to die?”  
  
“Harry?” Ron said tentatively, moving farther into the room. “What’s going on?”  
  
Harry immediately dropped the mirror frame and turned to see Ron in the doorway. “It’s nothing, Ron. I was just looking at Sirius’s things and I dropped a mirror. Don’t come any closer – I don’t want you to step on the glass.”  
  
Ron didn’t know what to do. Was it possible that he’d just thwarted a suicide attempt? One thing was certain: he needed to get Harry out of here – out of Sirius’s bedroom and out of Grimmauld Place. He convinced Harry to leave the mess behind for his mum to clean up with magic in the morning and led him back to bed.  
  
Ron lay awake in his bed feigning sleep until he heard Harry’s breathing slow. His mind was racing; through all the horrible experiences Harry’d had since Ron first met him on the Hogwarts Express, he’d never known anything to shatter Harry’s spirit like Sirius’s death. Ron was scared. He loved Harry more than any of his brothers – more than anyone in the world. Why couldn’t anyone else see that he was going around the twist?  
  
It was nearly midnight when Ron wandered down to the dingy kitchen. There were about a dozen people there, the remnants from an Order meeting where a number of important things were being decided. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore was among them.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ron said as he opened the door, “but I need to talk to you all about Harry.”  
  
Immediately, all conversation stilled. Ron looked around the room until his gaze finally rested on Dumbledore.  
  
“A little while ago, I walked in on him rummaging through things in Sirius’s room. He’s not right in the head and being here is upsetting him.” He’d decided not to tell anyone about the mirror episode.  
  
Molly walked over to her son and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “Ron, we knew this summer would be hard on him, and he has a lot of things besides the death of Sirius on his mind.”  
  
Ron surveyed the faces in the room. He wouldn’t be put off simply because he wasn’t yet of age. They had to understand that the boy thrashing around in the bed upstairs was not the same Harry that had sat for O.W.L.s just a few weeks ago. “He can’t stay here. It’s driving him mad.”  
  
“This is where he’s safest, though,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt. “It’s got the Fidelius Charm.”  
  
“But you don’t understand – it’s also got memories of Sirius in every single room. Harry can’t take it anymore. I know him – he’s not himself, and it’s really scary. I’m telling you, you’ve got to get him out of here.”  
  
All eyes rested on Dumbledore, who would be the final arbiter of the question. After giving the matter some thought, he finally spoke. “It is safest for Harry to be here – that is true. But it’s hardly helpful to exchange one unpleasant living situation for another.” He looked intently at Ron. “Where do you propose that he should stay?”  
  
“The Burrow,” answered Ron at once. “He likes it there, and there’s loads of room now that my brothers have moved out.”  
  
Dumbledore’s gaze moved from Ron to his parents. “Molly, Arthur – if we put up extra protections around your property, would you be willing to have Harry at The Burrow for the rest of the summer?”  
  
Molly was uncertain, but Arthur nodded right away. “Of course, Albus. Harry’s like our own son and we’ll do whatever is best for him.”  
  
Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “I suppose this is one case where Ron’s judgment is better trusted than mine. He knows Harry better than any of us, and his concern is a valid one. I’ll put up extra wards at The Burrow in the morning and bring over a portkey in the afternoon.”  
  
Ron let out a sigh of relief as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Harry. The Burrow might not be the nicest place, but it was a lot better than this dump.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Harry was very quiet since arriving at The Burrow that afternoon. He had that feeling that people were Fussing over him again, and he didn’t like it. He wished they’d all just leave him alone. Still, he had to admit that leaving Sirius’s house had been an excellent idea. Being there had been like an out-of-body experience – he’d no clue that seeing Sirius’s things would affect him so badly.  
  
Ron tried a little too hard to keep up a normal conversation during dinner. Ginny joined in for a while, but soon she just sort of looked at her brother like he was mental. Harry desperately wanted to be alone, yet after what had happened at Sirius’s house, he knew that Ron wouldn’t allow it. Ron had been tailing him like a private detective ever since that night he’d found Harry with the mirror – the damned other mirror that should have kept him from falling into Voldemort’s trap. Ron didn’t know that, though. No one did. Ron probably thought that Harry had been about to cut himself with the mirror, and Harry couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have.  
  
As they cleared their dishes to the sink, Mrs. Weasley asked, “Harry, dear, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take you on a little tour of the grounds.”  
  
Harry was confused. “You don’t need to do that. I know my way around pretty well, Mrs. Weasley.”  
  
“Oh, I know dear. But there are a few new things that I want to show you. It’s been a while since you spent any time here.”  
  
Seeing that she was not going to let up until he went with her, Harry shrugged. “All right.”  
  
“I’ll come too,” said Ron.  
  
“No, Ron, you stay here and help Ginny with the dishes. You’ve gotten out of chores all summer, and I think I deserve the evening off. Coming, Harry?”  
  
Harry caught the expression of injustice on Ron’s face and decided to leave before there was a confrontation between Ron and his mum. He just wouldn’t be able to handle that today. He accompanied Mrs. Weasley outside and down the path to the garden. When they got to the enormous Weeping Willow, Mrs. Weasley took his hand and dragged him through the nearby Rhododendrons.  
  
“Er, Mrs. Weasley? Where are we going?” Harry asked nervously.  
  
She stopped and pointed at the direction they’d just come. “When you come in here, you have to go straight through the Rhododendrons, or you’ll miss the entrance to the secret garden.” She pointed a straight line to a nearly indiscernible break in the branches. Then she took his hand again and led him through it.  
  
The garden took him completely by surprise. It wasn’t covered, but it appeared to be hidden from all sides. Only slightly larger than Ron’s bedroom, it was adorned with beautiful flowers and featured a small stone bench in the middle. The foliage around the periphery was dense, and even with his poor knowledge of Herbology, Harry recognized several magical plant varieties. It was gorgeous.  
  
Mrs. Weasley searched until she spotted an old hammock hiding under an overgrown fern. She cut back the foliage with her wand before cleaning the hammock, leaving it looking as good as new. A smile spread across her face and she seemed very satisfied.  
  
“Harry, this is my secret garden. None of my children know about it, even though they’ve lived here all their lives. I wanted to offer it to you to use while you’re here.”  
  
“I-I don’t understand. To use for what?”  
  
Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand at the stone bench to clean it off and sat down on it. “Before Ron was born, just after I’d had the twins, two of my brothers were killed in a fierce battle against five Death Eaters. I didn’t know anything about the Order of the Phoenix then – I just thought they’d been attacked for siding with Dumbledore against You Know Who.” She paused for a moment, remembering. “I was devastated, of course. I was quite close to my family – well, you can see how important family is to all of us – and the loss of both of them at the same time was more than I could handle. I’d just had the twins and Percy was into everything… Yes, it was very hard.  
  
“My father-in-law popped in one day to check on me and found me sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor in tears, completely unable to cope with the children and housework because I was so aggrieved. He disappeared to the yard for a while and created this place for me as a refuge.”  
  
Harry was drawn in by her story, forgetting his own problems as he thought about how hard it must have been for a young mother of five young children to have lost two brothers to Death Eaters.  
  
“He’s put some charms on it, although I don’t know exactly what they are. Variations on Cheering charms, I suppose. But spending time in the garden doesn’t make you giddy like a Cheering charm does. It’s more like it lightens the burdens on your soul. You don’t stop thinking or caring about your problems – it just helps you gain some perspective on them, makes them not seem so overwhelming. I believe this might be the refuge you need right now, Harry.”  
  
Now that Harry thought about it, his soul did feel less burdened. He could think about the prophecy and not be brought to his knees by a sense of dread. He could remember Sirius’s barking laughter without wanting to cry. He could think about Ron without his stomach tying up in knots.  
  
Harry’s face broke into a genuine smile for the first time in as long as he could remember. “Mrs. Weasley, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. This is… this is perfect.”  
  
“Now, my heart won’t be able to take it if I think you’ve been captured by Death Eaters, so I must insist that you tell someone before you come here. A simple statement that you’re going to take a walk in the garden should be sufficient. Can you do that, Harry?”  
  
“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you.” Mrs. Weasley captured Harry in a warm, motherly hug. Had the same action occurred in the house, Harry would have been reduced to tears, but here in the secret garden, he felt only a surge of affection for his surrogate mother. Everything was going to work out fine.  
  
~*~*~  
  
That night, as they were getting ready for bed, Ron casually asked Harry, “So, did Mum show you anything interesting?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She just wanted to point out how far the wards went so I wouldn’t wander outside of them.” Harry thought his lie sounded plausible, and Ron didn’t seem to question it.  
  
Harry pretended not to watch Ron get ready for bed. But it was hot in the room, so they were only wearing their underwear, and…oh hell, Harry should be sleeping in his own room.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep somewhere else?” asked Harry.  
  
Ron stared at him for a moment. “I suppose you could, but I don’t mind sharing. What if you have another nightmare?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I think I’ll be okay tonight. It was that house giving me nightmares.”  
  
Harry crawled into the camp-bed that Mr. Weasley had conjured for him. He expected Ron to get into the other bed right away, but instead, he came and sat on the corner of Harry’s. Even without his glasses on, Harry could see the scars from the brain that Ron had got in the Department of Mysteries. He glanced up at Ron’s face and knew that Ron had seen him looking.  
  
“I don’t blame you, you know,” Ron said quietly.  
  
“You don’t have to. I’m doing a good enough job for both of us.”  
  
Ron reached out and grabbed Harry’s wrist, which was lying on top of the covers. “Harry, don’t do this. I’m trying really hard to be your friend right now, but I don’t know what to say and you’re not making it very easy.”  
  
Ron’s hand felt hot around his wrist. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he tell Ron what to do or say if he didn’t have the slightest idea himself? “I don’t know either, Ron. Just…just don’t give up on me. I’m trying to sort it out, but it’s really hard.”  
  
“Is this all about Sirius?”  
  
Harry looked into Ron’s eyes. He’d told Ron nothing about the prophecy and his fate to kill or be killed. “Yes. No. I can’t…it’s all so bloody complicated.”  
  
Ron hadn’t let go of Harry’s wrist, and he was absently rubbing his thumb across Harry’s forearm. “I know you think I don’t know something else is going on. But I _know_ you, Harry, and I can tell there’s more to it. It makes me feel bad that you won’t tell me – like you don’t trust me.”  
  
Harry sat up, never letting his eyes leave Ron’s. “No. God, Ron, of course I trust you. I trust you with my life.” He let out a half-laugh. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one I _can_ trust.” Harry suddenly noticed that the two of them were sitting very close together, and Ron was still holding his wrist. He could feel his heart beat faster, and he was certain that a blush was creeping across his cheeks.  
  
“To answer your question,” Harry said, looking away, “yes, there is more going on than just Sirius’s death. Dumbledore told me some stuff – scary stuff – and I’m not really sure what it all means. But it’s something I have to figure out on my own. Okay?”  
  
“All right,” said Ron, dropping Harry’s hand as he stood up. “I’ll just, um, wait.”  
  
Ron got into his bed and put out the lights. “Harry,” he said into the darkness, “I just want you to know that I’d do anything for you.”  
  
“Thanks, Ron.” Harry closed his eyes, desperately wishing that Ron’s words were true.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Molly Weasley’s secret garden was brilliant. Four days after arriving at The Burrow, Harry had spent nearly a quarter of his waking hours there, trying to work out his feelings about Sirius, the prophecy, Dumbledore, the attack at the Ministry of Magic, Delores Umbridge, and most importantly, Ron.  
  
He’d known all along that he could trust Ron, just like he knew that he could trust Hermione or Ginny. But Hermione always questioned. Ginny was always trying to prove that she was more than just Ron’s little sister. Ron was unfaltering in his loyalty, the epitome of a true friend. It was as if he’d learned his lesson about doubting Harry during the fourth year and was trying to make up for it. Harry felt fortunate to have a friend like Ron, who would stand by him even though he was being an utter prat this summer.  
  
But loyal friendship should not give him sweaty palms and heart palpitations every time Ron walked into a room. In fact, a room without Ron in it might just as well be empty for all Harry cared. He had to keep himself from touching Ron all the time, and when Ron touched him – like he did the other night – it was wonderful and nerve-wracking and scary all at once. He desperately wanted to know what it would be like to kiss Ron – to compare it to kissing Cho. He wondered if Ron ever thought of kissing him, but then stopped that line of reasoning. Ron could never like him – not like that.  
  
A few of the times he’d been in the secret garden, Harry’s thoughts about Ron had gotten away from him. He’d stretched out on the hammock and thrust a hand inside his jeans, wanking to thoughts of Ron kissing or touching him. Afterwards, he hadn’t felt ashamed, as he probably would have had he done it in the house. The spells on the garden simply made him believe that it would be nice if he ever got the opportunity to make those fantasies come true.  
  
But proving to yourself that it’s okay to be attracted to your best mate and telling said best mate that you were either going to kill or be killed were two completely different things. Harry couldn’t figure out why it was so difficult to confide in Ron about the prophecy. He’d already spent countless hours trying to decide “what” he wanted to tell Ron and “when”, but he kept getting hung up on the question of “if.” That was stupid, though. Ron was going to find out eventually, and he might as well find out from Harry.  
  
He’d never figure it out today. Harry had already been gone for the whole morning, and he was worried that Ron might lose patience with him if they didn’t start spending some time together. There would be plenty of time to work things out tomorrow.  
  
~*~*~  
  
“What’s so damn interesting about our garden that Harry wants to spend all of his time there?”  
  
Ron was repairing some bent twigs on his broomstick while Ginny was curled up in a chair with her Potions text. It was never too early to begin revising for O.W.L.s, after all.  
  
“I expect he doesn’t want to be near you because you’re so uptight all the time,” she said vaguely as she turned the page.  
  
“Uptight? Of course I’m uptight. Who wouldn’t be?”  
  
Ginny looked up from her book. “Me, for one. I’m just as concerned about him as you are, but he seems much better since we came back here. I heard him crack a joke to Dad yesterday, although I’m not sure that Dad knew he was joking.”  
  
“Yeah, he is a bit better, isn’t he? Still, it’s not normal to spend so much time alone. He should be spending it with me.”  
  
Ginny’s mouth broke into a wide smile. “Oh! I get it. You’re jealous!”  
  
Ron glared at her. “Jealous? What in the world would I be jealous of?”  
  
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous of whoever he’s thinking about when he’s not with you.” She tried very unsuccessfully to hide a smirk.  
  
“How do you even know it’s a ‘someone’ he’s thinking about. What if it’s a ‘something’?” Ron folded his arms across his chest.  
  
“I think you’ve got a crush on him, and you’re uptight because he’s not around to ogle.”  
  
Ron was pretty certain that she was winding him up, but not a hundred percent positive. “You’re barking, you know that? Jealous – that’s a laugh.”  
  
The door opened and Harry came inside from his walk in the garden. Ron’s heart leapt when Harry smiled at him. Relief – that’s all it is, he told himself.  
  
“Hey, Harry, Fred and George left their broomsticks here last time they played Quidditch in the paddock. Do you want to go flying after lunch?”  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Harry answered. He smiled as he watched Ron fiddling with the twigs on his broomstick. “I wonder if I’m still banned from Quidditch for life.”  
  
“Nah. Dad says Dumbledore had that Order repealed as soon as they installed him back as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I think Filch still has your broom, though.”  
  
For a few hours that afternoon, Harry seemed like his old self. Being here at The Burrow made him very happy. Flying again made him even happier. Spending time with Ron made him happiest of anything.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Harry could always tell when he was being followed, and he had the creepiest feeling that someone was behind him. But that was impossible: he’d seen Mr. Weasley’s hand on the clock pointing to “Work,” he’d heard water running in the shower where Ron was bathing, and he passed Ginny and Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen on his way outside. He stopped and looked around, but there was no sign of anyone and no noise. Just to be on the safe side, he drew his wand. Harry looked around again when he got to the Weeping Willow and then quickly skirted around it to the Rhododendrons.  
  
Settling back into the hammock, Harry closed his eyes and thought about his favorite topic – kissing Ron – for a while. Then he thought about doing other things with Ron. He remembered Ron’s final words on that first night he came here.  
  
 _“Harry, I just want you to know that I’d do anything for you.”_  
  
Unfortunately, Ron hadn’t been talking about sex. He was probably talking about helping Harry through whatever his latest crisis was. Well, Ron wouldn’t be able to help with the prophecy about him and Voldemort.  
  
Harry got up from the hammock and started to pace. _This_ was why Harry had been reluctant to tell Ron about the prophecy – he was worried that Ron would put himself in danger by trying to help and his involvement just might get him killed. What was it he’d said to Sirius in the Shrieking Shack? _“If you want to kill Harry, you’re going to have to kill me first.”_ Of course, Sirius had no intention of killing him, but Harry was sure that if given the opportunity, it would only take the length of time to say “ _Avada Kedavra_ ” before Voldemort or his Death Eaters killed Ron.  
  
Were it not for the magical garden, Harry would have undoubtedly fallen into despair, because any thought of Ron dying tended to drive him into a state of hyperventilation. But now he could think about this rationally. How the hell did he think he was going to be able to defeat Voldemort without Ron’s help? Ron was the most strategic thinker he knew. He was brave and loyal. Plus, he knew Harry so well that he almost seemed to anticipate Harry’s needs before even Harry knew them. Harry would not ask for Ron’s help, but if offered, he would accept it. Harry needed Ron, and to put off telling him so made no sense whatsoever.  
  
He had eased himself onto the hammock again to ponder exactly how to break the news of the prophecy to Ron when he heard a rustling noise near the entrance to the garden. He jostled around looking for his wand, but before he could hex whatever it was, he heard a familiar voice.  
  
“Harry?” Ron was lowering the hood of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. He looked around and saw Harry sitting up in the hammock, his wand poised and ready. “Wait, don’t curse me.”  
  
Harry lowered his wand. “Ron, what are you doing here? Is – is that my cloak?”  
  
“I’m sorry. I got it from your trunk while you were eating breakfast. Been wandering around here for twenty minutes or more looking for you. I’ll understand if you’re angry, but I had to find out for myself where you were sneaking off to every day.”  
  
Had he not been in the secret garden, Harry might have been upset, but he laughed instead, imagining Ron poking his way through the Rhododendron branches and other overgrown foliage. “It’s all right. I’m not angry.” In the general scheme of things, Harry was just grateful that Ron hadn’t barged in on him wanking. “You could have just asked me, though.”  
  
“Would you have told me?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “No, probably not.”  
  
Ron looked around again. “How did you find this place? I’ve never seen it before.”  
  
“Your mum showed it to me our first night here. She said she’s kept it a secret ever since the twins were babies.”  
  
Ron chuckled. “I always knew she liked you better than us. So, um, you’ve been snoozing away in this hammock every morning?”  
  
“Sometimes. Mostly it’s just a quiet place to think about things. This garden has got some charms on it – Cheering charms probably – and I can think with a clear head when I’m in here.”  
  
“Well? Budge over. Let me try out the hammock. I could use some quiet time to think as well.” Ron knelt on one side of the hammock while Harry slid over to the far side. It was fairly comical as Ron tried to get on it without flipping Harry onto his face. With much effort, they finally settled in with confidence that they wouldn’t turn it over – unless one of them got up quickly.  
  
The problem with sharing a hammock, Harry decided, was that the weight tended to gravitate towards the middle. Harry and Ron were pressed up against each other through no doing of their own. This wouldn’t have been an issue, except that Harry was now close enough to hear Ron’s breathing and it made his heart race. Then some of his other body parts began to be interested in Ron’s proximity. Harry shifted so that Ron wouldn’t find out. Stupid hormones.  
  
They were quiet for several minutes. It was peaceful sitting here next to Ron. While he lay there not moving, Harry tried to work up the courage to tell Ron about the prophecy. He hadn’t intended to bring Ron here, but since he’d shown up uninvited, Harry thought that maybe the news wouldn’t seem so ghastly to him in here.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Harry blurted, “Ron, remember that prophecy that broke in the Department of Mysteries? I know what it said.”  
  
Ron was surprised, but encouraging, and Harry went on to tell him all of the horrid and scary details. It was easier to keep talking here in the garden, where his soul was less burdened and he didn’t feel as emotional.  
  
As expected, Ron’s first reaction was, “And to think I was worried about my O.W.L. results,” followed by the declaration, “Don’t think you have to do this alone, Harry.”  
  
“I can’t ask you to get involved. You might end up killed. I couldn’t bear that.”  
  
“Don’t be daft. You might have what Hermione calls a ‘saving-people thing,’ but I think I have a ‘saving-Harry thing.’ And I’m never going to be Head Boy like Bill and Percy, or Quidditch captain like Charlie, or the life of the party like Fred and George. Maybe helping you defeat You Know Who is the thing I can do better than any of my brothers.”  
  
It sounded so obvious – like such a foregone conclusion – that Harry felt silly for not bringing it up before now. He worried, though, whether Ron would feel the same about the situation once they left the garden.  
  
“Thanks, Ron. You have no idea how much this means to me.”  
  
“Besides,” continued Ron, “if anything happened to you, whose arse would I kick in Wizard’s Chess? No one else will play with me anymore.”  
  
“Poor excuse for getting yourself killed.”  
  
Ron smiled. “I’m not going to be killed and neither are you. You’re the luckiest bloke I know, and you have more lives than a cat. I know you’re going to be able to snuff him.”  
  
Harry felt so much gratitude and love towards Ron that he very nearly leaned over to kiss him. Then he remembered that if he started to kiss Ron out of gratitude, it was unlikely he’d be able to stop. He settled for a deep, contented sigh and hoped that Ron would understand.  
  
They lay in the hammock in silence a while longer, Ron presumably pondering what Harry had just told him, and Harry feeling tremendous relief at being able to share his most terrifying secret with Ron. He was also enjoying the feeling of his bare arms against Ron’s. This led, of course, to thoughts of other bare things touching, and soon Harry’s mind was racing with inappropriate fantasies.  
  
“Harry,” said Ron out of the blue, “have you ever wondered what it would be like to kiss someone?”  
  
Harry had no idea what had led to that particular question, and he tried his best to answer nonchalantly. “I _have_ kissed someone. Cho, last year. Remember?” Harry wished Ron hadn’t brought up kissing right at the moment, because he was trying very hard to hide the fact that he was, er, hard.  
  
“No, I meant someone you really care about. Not just a girl you think is pretty, but a person who you wanted to show how much you cared but couldn’t say with words because it would be too mushy.”  
  
Ron’s breath had sped up as much as Harry’s, and Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. “Yeah.”  
  
Ron turned his head to look at Harry and found Harry’s lips right there. He had no choice but to kiss them.  
  
Had they been any other place, Harry’s stomach would have been tied up in knots, but they were peacefully lounging on a hammock in a secret garden of tranquility. Harry kissed back. Not only did he kiss back, but he also moved his shoulder so that he could reach over and touch Ron’s face with his outside hand.  
  
Harry thought perhaps Ron was just experimenting with kissing and that, when he was done, he’d say that it was nice, or wet, or whatever the hell it was. But Ron didn’t stop, so neither did Harry. He tried to lick his own lips to moisten them, but he was too close and licked Ron’s as well. Then Ron licked Harry’s lips. It was very nice. Harry put a little more energy into his kiss, which Ron was not expecting, and their teeth clattered together. It wasn’t unpleasant, though, and the charm on the garden eliminated any hint of awkwardness.  
  
Ron shifted, causing the hammock to swing, and Harry moved his free arm to counterbalance. His hand brushed up against Ron’s trousers. Oh my – Ron was hard too!  
  
Ron stopped kissing and rolled onto his back as best he could in the hammock. “Harry, I’m sorry. I – um… God, what are we doing?”  
  
Harry continued to smile, not feeling the least bit embarrassed. He’d had five days to get used to his feelings for Ron. Ron had had fifteen minutes. “I believe you were kissing me, I was kissing you back and we’re both trying to hide from each other how much we’re actually enjoying it.”  
  
“You mean, you don’t mind?” Ron turned his head towards Harry and couldn’t help but return his smile.  
  
“Remember the other night when you asked me if all of my troubles were because of Sirius and I told you it was complicated?” Ron nodded. “Wanting to kiss you was one of those complications.”  
  
“Doesn’t seem that complicated now, though. I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it until Ginny was winding me up yesterday, but it’s all right really. ‘S’nice.”  
  
Harry kissed Ron again, wanting confirm that, indeed, it _was_ nice. “You won’t feel that way when you’re back in the house, though. It’s different in the garden. When I’ve thought about kissing you back there, it makes my insides feel all jittery and I worry about what you’re going to think of me and what it all means.”  
  
“Well, now that you know what I think, it shouldn’t be so bad, right?”  
  
“Yeah, I guess so.” Harry thought it might be very bad, but he didn’t say anything to Ron. Ron was kissing him because he cared about him; Harry lo— cared about Ron, too, but his motivations were much more hormonally driven. However, kissing Ron was very enjoyable and there was no point in borrowing trouble – it would find him soon enough.  
  
Harry and Ron kissed for a long while, until their lips were swollen and slightly chapped, and their backs were uncomfortable from balancing in the hammock. They decided to head back to the house for lunch. Almost as soon as they left the garden, Harry could feel his anxiety about the prophecy and of having snogged his best mate wreaking havoc on his stomach. He wondered if Ron felt the same, but Ron said nothing.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Mrs. Weasley had kept them busy doing chores around the house, but Harry caught Ron staring at him with a furrowed brow several times that afternoon. They hadn’t spoken a word about what had happened that morning in the garden, and Harry was nearly frantic with worry that Ron had been totally freaked out by knowing what was in the prophecy. It was disturbing to think that the fate of the wizarding world was in the hands of one fifteen-year-old wizard whose only real accomplishments were on the Quidditch pitch. And knowing exactly _why_ Voldemort was trying so hard to kill Harry made his situation seem all the more dire.  
  
Harry’s fears were confirmed when Ron announced at the dinner table, “Harry, you know that thing we talked about this morning? I really think we need to discuss it some more. Let’s go upstairs.” His tone was not terribly cheerful, and Harry thought Ron might be angry.  
  
As they climbed the stairs to Ron’s bedroom, Harry could feel his stomach churn more with each step. Although he couldn’t blame Ron for being worried about his own safety just by associating with Harry, he didn’t think he’d be able to bear it if Ron said he didn’t want to be friends anymore. But who would want to be mates with a potential murderer? He took a deep breath before entering the bedroom.  
  
Harry hadn’t planned on being attacked by an exuberant redhead the moment the door was shut.  
  
He was immediately pinned to the wall by Ron’s body, and Ron was kissing him so hard he could barely breathe. “Harry,” moaned Ron between kisses, “you didn’t tell me it would be like this.”  
  
Harry’s heart was racing, and he could hardly talk. “Like what? What’s wrong?”  
  
“All day long, all I could think about was kissing you. And I was going to suggest we carry on after lunch, but Mum had all those things for us to do. And I feel bad because I know you have that prophecy on your mind, but the only thing I want to do is snog you senseless.” Ron said this all very fast, and Harry had a difficult time keeping up.  
  
A sense of relief poured over him; it was that _other_ thing they talked about that morning which had Ron so worked up, not the prophecy. “I fail to see the problem,” Harry smirked. Though hardly able to move, he craned his neck to find Ron’s lips, and they kissed deeply again.  
  
“And then, do you think Dad could have eaten any slower? Longest meal of my life, that was. Did you know that you licked your lips twenty-three times at dinner tonight?”  
  
“You counted?”  
  
“Yeah. Why?”  
  
Harry chuckled. “Maybe we should go back out to the garden and talk about this rationally?”  
  
“No, don’t want to talk. Wanna snog you again before I go crazy.”  
  
Harry was having a hard time getting his head around the fact that Ron’s feelings towards him could have changed so dramatically in just a few short hours. Still, he’d been fantasizing about Ron for weeks, so why couldn’t Ron feel the same way? Ron pressed Harry into the wall and whimpered when Harry was unable to resist shifting his hips ever so slightly to rub his erection against Ron’s leg.  
  
Panting, Ron whispered to Harry, “How come we never did this before? You didn’t slip me a funny potion or anything, did you?”  
  
Harry laughed. “I’d never do that. Besides, as Snape is always quick to point out, I’m shite at Potions. But whatever it is, you don’t hear me complaining, do you?”  
  
Ron smiled. “No, I don’t.” He led Harry to his bed and kicked off his shoes, motioning for Harry to do the same.  
  
Harry sat next to Ron on the bed, slipping his hand around Ron’s waist. He leaned in for another kiss and was pulled down to a reclining position. They jockeyed for position while their lips remained locked together, and Harry was grateful that they were no longer on the hammock, as one of them would surely have flipped it over by now. From his new vantage point, propped up on one elbow and wedged up against Ron, Harry could see each of Ron’s freckles, how they trailed across the bridge of his nose and faded away at his hairline. He noticed himself trembling; nervous, even after they had snogged that morning. Perhaps it was anticipation, or anxiety that Ron would somehow change his mind.  
  
He pulled his lips away from Ron’s to speak. “You sure this is okay, mate?”  
  
“It was my idea, remember? Yeah, I want this – want you.”  
  
Harry’s mouth was on Ron’s in an instant, and he splayed his hand across Ron’s chest, and then moved it slowly down Ron’s torso. Ron moaned as Harry sucked on his tongue, and Harry could feel Ron shiver as his fingertips traced a nipple through the thin t-shirt.  
  
It took every ounce of Harry’s resolve to refrain from ripping Ron’s clothes right off his body; he knew that Ron was still getting used to his feelings, and while he probably wouldn’t object – being a sixteen-year-old boy – Harry didn’t want to mess things up by going too fast too soon. His lips ventured experimentally to Ron’s jaw line, and down his neck to the hollow of Ron’s throat. Sucking slightly and then licking caused a breathy moan to escape from Ron’s mouth, which made Harry that much more excited.  
  
Harry finally gathered up the courage to massage the hard bulge he found in Ron’s trousers. Ron’s eyes rolled back into his head as he muttered, “Fuck, that’s good,” beneath his labored breath. Harry’s eyes were riveted to Ron; nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of power and excitement he got from being able to coax this response from Ron.  
  
There was a loud bang on the door. “Ron, Harry, are you in there?”  
  
Ron’s eyes flew open at the sound of Ginny’s voice, and he shook his head, indicating that he wanted them to pretend they weren’t there. They heard Ginny try the door and were grateful that Ron had thought to lock it.  
  
“I know you’re in there, Ron. You never lock your door when you leave. Listen: Dumbledore is downstairs and he wants to see Harry.”  
  
Harry sat bolt upright in a panic. Why was Dumbledore here? Had something happened? “Be right down,” he called to Ginny. He couldn’t miss the look of disappointment on Ron’s face.  
  
Harry smiled. “It’s all right. We’ve got all night to carry on from where we’ve left off. In fact, we have the rest of the summer.”  
  
This thought seemed to cheer Ron up, and he stood to face Harry. “Let’s see what he wants so we can hurry him on his way.” He stole one last kiss before opening the door and following Harry out of the room.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Dumbledore’s head was bowed as they entered the living room. He looked up when he heard them enter, and a smile immediately replaced his frown. His eyes flicked from Harry to Ron and back to Harry, twinkling with surprise and amusement as they did so. Harry had the distinct impression that Dumbledore somehow knew about him and Ron.  
  
“I see the move to The Burrow has helped you, just as young Mr. Weasley predicted it would.” He held out an aged hand to Harry. “How are you, Harry?”  
  
Harry shook Dumbledore’s hand. “I’m okay. Better since leaving Sirius’s house. I’ve had some time to think.” He glanced in Mrs. Weasley’s direction, and she smiled. “Is there something wrong, sir? Is that why you’re here?”  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. “There’s nothing that should concern you. I merely stopped by to see if I could convince you to take on the additional responsibility of leading a Defense Association at Hogwarts next term.”  
  
Harry was stunned. Dumbledore was actually suggesting that the D.A. continue on as a sanctioned school activity. “Does this mean we aren’t going to have a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher again this year?”  
  
A grin crossed Dumbledore’s face. “I won’t deny that it’s been a challenge to fill the post. However, I’m prompted to encourage you to continue teaching due to the extraordinary examination results your – ahem – students received. Of the students receiving “O’s” and “E’s” on their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, all except one had been trained by you. Furthermore, every one of your fifth and seventh year students passed his or her practical exam.”  
  
Harry’s heart leapt at the news. That meant that everyone – even Neville – had learned enough to have made the risk worthwhile. “They worked really hard, sir. It wasn’t my teaching,” he said modestly.  
  
“That’s not true,” interrupted Ron. “Nobody would have even joined the D.A. if it wasn’t for Harry leading it. And he is a good teacher – everyone says so.” He turned to Harry. “You should do it, mate. How do you expect us all to stand beside you to fight You Know Who without being trained up a bit?”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” said Harry. “But I won’t teach any Slytherins. It’ll have to be ‘Invitation Only’.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. Now, one other matter to discuss. Considering that you have ceased your Occlumency lessons, I must know whether you’ve felt any other intrusions into your mind by Voldemort. Any aching in your scar or unpleasant dreams?”  
  
“Nothing,” replied Harry. “There were a few times at Grimmauld Place where I might have felt him, but none since moving here. Occasionally there’s some prickling, but it’s nothing like last year. No funny dreams either.”  
  
Dumbledore stared at Harry, considering the situation carefully. “Very curious,” he said after a while. “I’d have thought that the anger and distress you so eloquently expressed to me in my office a few weeks ago would be a perfect environment for Lord Voldemort to co-exist in your head.”  
  
“But it’s not!” cried Harry. Then, feeling as if he might have revealed too much information, he continued, “I mean, I was angry at first, but I’ve been thinking more pleasant thoughts lately.”  
  
The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes was back. “Ah, that’s excellent. Just remember, Harry, what it was that made it impossible for Voldemort to possess you. If you continue to pursue that strategy, I daresay that you’ll find it more appealing than Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.”  
  
On this cryptic advice, Dumbledore said a hasty goodbye and promptly Disapparated.  
  
“Bloody hell, Dumbledore can be confusing sometimes. Do you have any idea what he was going on about?” Ron had grabbed Harry by the arm and was leading him upstairs to resume their previous activities.  
  
Harry grinned. He knew exactly what Dumbledore had meant. Their previous discussion about ‘The Power the Dark Lord Knows Not’ made it seem obvious that his feelings – wait, he could admit it to himself – his _love_ for Ron was keeping Voldemort at bay.  
  
They reached the landing at the top of the stairs. “Yeah, I do. Hey Ron, remember how you said you’d do anything for me? What if I told you that I could substitute kissing you for Occlumency lessons with Snape?”  
  
Harry felt himself being pulled impatiently into Ron’s bedroom, and the door slammed behind him.  
  
Voldemort didn’t bother Harry for the rest of the summer.  
  
  
  
 _finis_


End file.
